The woman doesn’t make a good first impression. Her hair is dry as straw under a ball cap from Tractor Supply. Wearing a stiff barn coat and men’s muck boots that make a hollow flap as she walks with a limping rhythm, the full bucket bumping her knee each stride. Her hand is thick, nails … Read more
Centering myself behind the horse as he walks away, bent forward with my hands on my knees, staring his hips for unevenness. Listening to his footfalls. Knowing he isn’t quite right, I follow a few steps behind. He’s off but it doesn’t show every stride. The gelding knows I’m watching and the awareness changes his … Read more
She has no time for gentle words and soft hands primping her mane. The broad-chested mare may allow a stiff curry in the itchy season, but she would rather throw herself on the ground to rub the loose hair off on a crust of spring snow and cool mud, leaping in air to gallop away, … Read more
The young visitor stared at the bay mare’s mane. “Would you like to brush her?” I ask. Sending the girl for the grooming bag, I haltered the mare, a visitor to the farm herself. After showing the girl about curry combs and brushing with the grain of the hair, she set to the task … Read more
Save your pity. It means nothing. She’s a big mare, broad chest and straight legs, her coat the color of soil that could grow rose gold, imperial topaz, and chocolate. She talks in all directions at once, not that she cares, with her ears shouting orders and her body dwarfed by her ageless spirit … Read more
Walking wide beyond my grasp, only ask for his eye, now wait. His forelock shelters a glimmer of movement. He’ll take his time, the slow arc of his neck only made sweeter by the distance between us. Proving the existence of things that need no proof is an invisible rope. … Anna Blake at Infinity … Read more
Six times his age.